Nightmare and Memory
by Kyrieath
Summary: One shot. A Blood elf rogue recalls the only memento of the past he has: a nightmare born of the memory when Silvermoon fell.


Note: This told from the perspective of my BE rogue, Taleron. It's just a bit of his background in story fashion.

* * *

A soft scrabbling...a clatter of stone as something pushes rock about....

_Where am I...?_

More awareness now, in a world devoid of light...of the ability to move, but hardly devoid of feeling. Pressure; something heavy pinning arms and legs..something jagged near the chest and threatening to cut should too deep a breath be taken or pierce should it fall further down....

_What happened...the city..._

Other senses beginning to return; the taste of old copper vile on the tongue, the scent of meat left too long out permeating the area...sinking deep into the lungs and threatening to strangle. Some light now...as those sounds seem to be disturbing the pressure coming down...easing it off, making small rains of stone dust and returning sight to at least one eye....

_No! Put the stones back...I don't want to see..._

Mercilessly, the stones continue to be pulled up and away, like some cruel punishment from the heavens as the light grows stronger. The source of that foul, rotted meat smell...small hands jutting out from under rubble- a larger foot clad in a lady's delicate silken slipper, the color lost to dirt and blood...all revealed as the light spreads...and I cannot turn my head away. Closing my eyes does no good...I only see it in my mind's eye.

_Gone..they're gone...._

"Eeh- anudder ripped up house; ain't nothing here gonna be worth keepin', m'tellin' ya."

Green skinned hands, far too small to be an orc's or trolls dip down into that light...pulling the rocks away from the ruined bodies of my wife and children- searching through garments and the remains of the room, casting aside items here and there as worthless. Anger at the callous treatment stirs my voice, forcing it through the ruin of my throat...though what slips out is little more than a whisper for all I want to scream it to the heavens.

"..G..get away...from my..fam...ly..."

I reach for that magic I'd once been so proud of; that I had used time and again in every day things...yet nothing comes. There's only a peculiar ache welling up when I try...no feel of the sunwell's presence nearby, waiting for my call to grant a spell form and power.

Nothing. As dead as those tormented forms I can see far too clearly now that power seems to be....was there nothing left at all?

" 'Ey! We gotta live one here!"

"Heheh- more like half live- he don't look like he's gonna last."

Those invasive figures...goblins, I now realize...move closer, peering down at me with their perpetual smirks and greedy eyes...some starting to poke curiously at the stones pinning me in place. Agony stirs at every small shift of those stones, stealing my regained voice away in a sharp cry....

"Well he can still feel 'em..."

"Y'can't be serious; we don't need a near dead elf!"

"Eh, someone might want 'im back- nothin' like a little finder's fee. We ain't gettin' nothin' else outta this dump."

Torture ensues as they pluck the stones away; then the worst of all as they carry me out of the ruin my home had become. Nor is it the pain that makes it torture...it's seeing what's become of Silvermoon...the tumbled walls, the ruined statues...I even imagine I may see some other forms scattered about the debris....

And still those shrill, wheedling voices jabber back and forth as I'm moved about like so much cargo...

"I still don't think this is a good idea!"

"You never do! But I ain't goin' back empty handed after we snuck this far in; Y'were the one sayin' there'd be tons of treasure for the grabbin' if we did this. I ain't seen nothin' yet makin' it worth riskin' all this!"

"You both stop yackin' and start movin'; We got a half hour till the next search party comes through."

As three goblin looters argue over what to do with me, I close my eyes and will death to take me. My family, Silvermoon and the Sunwell are all vanished...what is there left to cling to? I feel myself slipping into darkness and make no move to fight it. I never want to wake up. There's no reason for me to stay any longer....

~*---------------------*~

I awaken with a start, eyes flying wide as I sit up...breath coming in short, uneasy pants. It's been a long time since I had that dream...Not since I had first come back to Silvermoon and seen the ruins the Wretched now crawled about has it turned up to disturb me.

It's fading quickly now, however, as it did then...the details becoming vaguer and less pronounced with every shaky breath...

Those were the memories of an elf I didn't know; I wasn't the same as him. In the end, as the details vanish with sleep's loss, all that remains the same between us is a fear for places too close, too dark.... It's a ghost of him I can't ever be away from but I can never understand, either. His life, his dreams, even his name...I can't recall them. Only that waking terror and the realization somewhere...he... we lost something and he tried to follow.

Instead, I happened. I wonder sometimes if he may've really managed to die after all and the body just didn't get the message so it made up someone else to tell it what to do.

Yeah, not the brightest theory but then...certain parties in my life were all too happy to inform me I wasn't the sharpest dagger to find it's way into someone's back anyway.

"Aww, whatever..."

I wash my hands and face quickly enough with water of questionable purity, then rake my fingers through my hair to make it at least possible to restrain with a headband. Still a mess, but at least it's out of the way and that's all that matters. Another day, another long as you please ride with a bad tempered warlock and a pair of squabbling hawkstriders. Oh well...it's a living.

More than I can say for that poor guy who had the bad taste to leave that memory lying around on his way out....


End file.
